


savior

by tatoeba



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2018-10-28 23:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10841631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatoeba/pseuds/tatoeba
Summary: college!AU. Jongdae’s new tutor might save him from Mandarin, but that doesn’t help save Jongdae fromhim.





	savior

**Author's Note:**

> for chiharu for runandgun 2013. this was rather a challenge as i’m not used to writing either jongdae or tao but I liked this prompt a lot and in the end had fun writing this despite the difficulties. MUCH MUCH THANKS to sammy for looking this over and jj for all your help omg and to my tlist for listening to me whine about this for so long weeps

  
Jongdae is failing. Jongdae is 100% failing.

He stares at his most recent Mandarin test in dismay. The red scribbling all over the page is like foreshadowing to the the blood that will be spilled when his father kills him for _failing_.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Minseok says, patting Jongdae on the back. “It’s just one bad grade.”

“I’ve failed every one of my tests in this class,” Jongdae exclaims, and he crumples up the abysmal piece of paper and throws it out onto his lunch tray.

Minseok winces, looks at Jongdae a little pitifully. “Okay, nevermind, maybe you do have to worry,” he says.

“You could just get a tutor,” Yixing says from across the table. He’s idly working his way through a small bowl of ice cream and looks more amused by Jongdae’s predicament than sympathetic. He’s also, in the time that Jongdae’s spent wallowing, moved from his own seat into his boyfriend’s (and Jongdae’s roommate’s) lap. Yifan looks slightly annoyed by Yixing’s seating choice, and yet also comfortable, smiling fondly at Yixing as he eats.

Jongdae stares at them for a long few moments and then leans across the table, hands stretched out in offering, “You guys could help me!!”

Yixing laughs, sucking around his spoon. “Sorry,” he says. “Between all my classes and dance practices every night I don’t have time.” This time he actually does look at Jongdae sadly. “If you’d asked earlier I could’ve helped, but with our dance show coming up--”

Jongdae waves his hand at him. “It’s fine, I get it,” he says. He turns to Yifan and looks at him pleadingly.

“No,” Yifan says and Jongdae deflates, slumping forward against the table before slowly pulling himself back into his seat.

“Why not? You’re my roommate, you have to help me!” he says.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Yifan says, rolling his eyes. “Besides I’m busy, too, with basketball practice and student council meetings. I can help you out when I’m around, but I can’t properly tutor you the way you, uh, clearly need to be tutored.” He glances down at Jongdae’s crumpled up test paper, the bright red _F_ in the corner still visible.

Minseok snickers beside Jongdae, but reaches out to pat his shoulder consolingly. “You should really find an actual tutor, or someone in your class to help you out.”

“That’s so much work,” Jongdae complains. “Besides Chanyeol’s the only person in my class that I know, and he’s doing just about as well as I am.”

“Then you’re on your own, man,” Minseok says.

Jongdae groans. “You guys are all useless,” he grumbles, and stares unhappily at his test paper which has started to shrivel up in the bowl of soup it had landed in.

 

 

“I hear you’re failing Mandarin,” Lu Han says in the form of a greeting as he slides into his seat beside Jongdae in their World Literature class.

“Can you help me??” Jongdae hisses excitedly, looking at Lu Han with big, hopeful eyes.

Lu Han laughs and shoves Jongdae’s face away with a hand pressed up against his cheek. “Please, I have better things to do than to tutor you,” he says and Jongdae glares at him.

“You’d let your friend fail a class because you’re too lazy to help?” he demands.

“You’re too lazy to properly study so maybe that’s what you need to work on, not getting a tutor,” Lu Han replies easily and Jongdae opens his mouth to retort, but realizes that maybe Lu Han has a point.

“I do study,” he says weakly. Maybe not as much as he _should_ , sure, because Jongdae would much rather spend his evening playing video games or joining Baekhyun at the nearest house party.

“It’s your lucky day, though,” Lu Han says, ignoring Jongdae’s pathetic statement. “I know someone who can help you.”

Jongdae looks at Lu Han skeptically. The last time Lu Han had said he could help Jongdae out, Jongdae had woken up naked in the dorm commons with no recollection of how he’d gotten there. Lu Han is a good friend, but Jongdae has become wary.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Lu Han whispers, quieting down as their professor walks into the room and greets the class. “He’s a friend of mine. A freshman, but he’s Chinese and he’s already helping Sehun and Jongin out in their first year Mandarin classes. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking you on as another student.”

“Do you enjoy collecting freshmen or something?” Jongdae says, shuffling open his notebook to a clean page and jotting down the date in the corner. He taps his pen against the table until the girl sitting in front of him turns around to give him a look.

“Yes,” Lu Han says unabashedly and Jongdae rolls his eyes. “They’re cute!”

“You just like telling them what to do,” Jongdae says and Lu Han smirks.

“So should I let Zitao know you’re interested in letting him tutor you?” he says.

Jongdae sighs, weighs his options, but it’s clear after a few seconds that his only option is to say yes. He can’t afford to fail his class and if this Zitao kid can’t help him out then maybe Jongdae will suck it up and visit the student center and find an actual tutor.

“All right, fine,” he says and Lu Han cheers a little louder than necessary, and their professor shoots them both a stern glare from the front of the room.

 

 

Thursday evening Jongdae very reluctantly drags himself out to meet Zitao in the library for his first tutoring session. He’d much rather stay here, sprawled out on the floor of Baekhyun’s room playing Call of Duty or something, but he knows he has to at least give this tutoring thing a try.

“You’ll be fine,” Baekhyun tells him, tossing Jongdae’s controller to his roommate Chanyeol so they can keep playing. “Zitao is really nice. I’m sure you’ll like him.”

“That’s not particularly what I’m worried about,” Jongdae says but bids his goodbye and makes his way across campus.

Jongdae has no idea who he’s looking for; Lu Han had only told him that Zitao was “tall” which was really the least helpful piece of information he could’ve given Jongdae. He finds an armchair to flop into close enough to the doors so he can keep an eye out for anyone who walks in and seems to be searching for someone. Unfortunately, that’s about 80% of the people walking into the library and as the seconds tick by Jongdae is starting to regret this whole thing.

That’s when an unfamiliar voice says, “Are you Kim Jongdae?” from somewhere behind him and Jongdae almost has a heart attack as he spins around and comes face to face with whom he can only assume is Huang Zitao.

At least Lu Han was right; Zitao _is_ tall. Even when Jongdae hastily gets to his feet, Zitao stands inches above him. He’s got ash blonde hair that falls into his eyes, dark eyes that stare curiously at Jongdae, and a slight smile tugging at the corner of full lips.

Jongdae swallows. Whatever he was expecting, well, this definitely wasn’t it.

“You’re Zitao?” he says, finally managing to find his voice and Zitao nods, his smile widening.

“So _you_ are Jongdae,” Zitao says excitedly. He pushes his hair away from his face, trying to tuck behind his ears. They only just fall back into place, but Jongdae’s a little intrigued by the number of piercings he has, gold studs catching the ceiling lights. “Lu Han-ge says you need help with Mandarin?”

“Not just help, I need to be _saved_ ,” Jongdae insists. He scratches the side of his face, feeling a little embarrassed. He doesn’t want to explain just how bad he’s failing to some kid he’s never met before.

But Zitao looks nonplussed. He shifts his backpack on his shoulders and smiles down at Jongdae, and the bit of intimidation Jongdae had felt initially starts to made away. He’s got a nice smile, he thinks, before quickly pushing the thought away.

“Don’t worry, I’ll save you,” Zitao says, in his accented Korean, and the confidence that pours from his words is almost enough to make Jongdae feel like this whole stupid tutoring thing might be worth it.

 

 

Jongdae learns three things after his first session with Zitao: 1. He's not failing Mandarin as terribly as he thought. 2. Zitao is cute. 3. Zitao is _really_ cute.

Jongdae maybe expected some kid who would look at Jongdae like he's an idiot for forgetting how to introduce himself in Mandarin. Maybe someone incredibly nerdy with glasses who would give Jongdae a bunch of extra things to study, even someone who would take a look at his abilities and deem him hopeless

Zitao is none of these things. Zitao is surprisingly patient, and fun. He laughs at Jongdae's terrible pronunciation, but tells him, as clearly as he can with careful Korean, what he's doing wrong and how to do it better. And it doesn't help at all that he gives Jongdae these small, kind smiles when he gets something right. His eyes curve up and he's really fucking cute and Jongdae, just after that first two hour meeting, feels a little doomed.

 

 

"Why didn't you warn me about Zitao? You're the worst friend ever," Jongdae grumbles, inviting himself into Lu Han's room. Lu Han looks up from where he's lying on his stomach on his bed, a book spread open in front of him, and raises a brow.

"Nice to see you too, Jongdae," he says. "What can I help you with."

“You don’t happen to have some other Chinese friend who could tutor me?” Jongdae asks carefully, flopping himself down on Minseok’s bed.

Now Lu Han actually looks curious, tucking a pen between the pages of his book so he won’t lose his spot and turning over to look at Jongdae properly. “Why? What’s wrong with Zitao?” he asks.

"Nothing's _wrong_ with him, I just don't know that it will work out..." The excuse sounds pathetic to his own ears. He really doesn't want to have to explain that with Zitao as his tutor, Jongdae might have more trouble than just passing his Mandarin class. Zitao is cutely childish, as evidenced by their meeting the night before when he'd not-so-discreetly spent ten minutes trying to take one selca on his phone while he'd given Jongdae a few lines to memorize. It was enough to distract Jongdae for the longest time, and when Zitao turned back to him after letting out a pleased noise at his successful photo, a smile pulling at kittenish lips, Jongdae forgot everything he’d tried to learn.

Lu Han looks at Jongdae with an eyebrow raised, like he’s waiting for a better explanation and all Jongdae can grumble out is, “He’s...distracting.”

Instantly he knows he should’ve just kept his mouth shut because Lu Han’s expression goes from confused to gleeful in .02 seconds flat, and he’s pointing an accusatory finger at Jongdae from across the room. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?” he exclaims and Jongdae throws one of Minseok’s pillows at him. It hits Lu Han square in the face and his tiny splutter is almost enough to make Jongdae feel better, but then Lu Han looks even more thrilled when the pillow falls down to the floor. “You totally do!”

“So what if he’s hot, that’s not the point,” Jongdae says, and he sounds terribly unconvincing even to himself. “The point is I can’t concentrate when he’s--”

“Hot?” Lu Han smirks.

“ _No_ , when he’s taking stupid selcas of himself instead of teaching me--”

“Chanyeol does that all the time and it’s never bothered you before.”

“Can’t you just tutor me instead?” Jongdae sighs.

Laughing, Lu Han rolls back over onto his stomach and picks up his pen in his book again. “Do you really want _me_ to teach you Mandarin? Just think about that for a moment.”

Jongdae does. Lu Han would, in some ways, be better than Zitao, if only for the fact that Jongdae doesn’t find Lu Han any more attractive than a potted plant. Of course, Lu Han would also probably teach him how to say _I fucked your mom_ instead of _Good morning_ and Jongdae will end up making a fool of himself even more than he already does in his Mandarin class.

“Okay, fine, you make a good point,” he concedes. “But what am I supposed to do about...this.”

"You like him! Make the most of your studying sessions if you know what I mean." Lu Han waggles his eyebrows.

"You’re the most useless friend ever."

"You know, he likes you too," Lu Han says, like that fucking makes things better. (It does, but Jongdae will never admit it). "Well, he said you were nice and that you were easier to teach than Sehun, though I don’t know if that means much in the grand scheme of things..."

Jongdae sighs, picks himself up off Minseok's bed. "I’m leaving now," he says, heading for the door, and Lu Han barely manages to shout, "Study hard! Maybe he'll reward you!" before the door slams shut behind him.

 

 

Zitao is wearing an obnoxious leopard print sweater that Jongdae would normally find hideous on just about anyone. Of course, Zitao somehow looks infuriatingly good, like he's some kind of fashion model. Even his fucking _shoes_ match. And Jongdae still finds him impossibly attractive.

"So how is class going?" Zitao asks him when they meet up for their fifth lesson. They're in the cafeteria because Zitao said he hadn't had a chance to eat yet and Jongdae won't pass up a chance for an extra snack, so he's munching on a bag of chips as Zitao works through his dinner.

"It wasn't so bad today. I mean, I guess I understood more than usual since it was stuff we went over during our last tutoring session," Jongdae says around a mouthful of chips.

Zitao looks at him amusedly and Jongdae quickly swallows. Zitao probably thinks he's disgusting, fuck, what is he doing. He pushes his chips aside.

"That's good," Zitao says.

"I still feel lost though," Jongdae admits. He's been trying harder (than before at any rate) because while the disapproving look on his professor's face doesn't bother him at all, Zitao pulls this sort of kicked puppy expression that makes Jongdae feel incredibly guilty, and that's not an easy thing to do.

He definitely likes it better when Zitao grins widely at him when he gets something right, the brightness in his eyes and the cute way he says "good work!" makes Jongdae try to put more effort in. Somewhere in the back if his mind Lu Han's unhelpful words of maybe he'll reward you linger, but he tries not to think about it. At least not too much. (He's not very successful).

Zitao chews on a piece of fried chicken and pulls Jongdae's Mandarin textbook open to where they left off from before. "Okay, try saying these practice sentences aloud again, I want to see if you’ve been working on your pronunciation."

Jongdae recites them, carefully and slowly, and he’s studied them so much he doesn’t really need to look at the book. The proud look in Zitao’s eyes when he meets his gaze afterward makes Jongdae’s chest warm and he tries to push it away. This is becoming too troublesome, too soon. He needs to focus, and not on the way Zitao licks sauce off his upper lip. Goddammit.

“You catch on better than anyone else I’ve tried to help learn Mandarin,” Zitao says, sounding pleased. “My friend is really bad, but I think he messes up on purpose to annoy me.” He laughs; it’s a nice sound, Jongdae thinks, not for the first time. “I’m glad you don’t do that.”

“I haven’t _yet_ ,” Jongdae warns, a sneaky grin working its way across his lips. He grabs a few chips from his forgotten bag and stuffs them into his mouth. “Just wait until I get more comfortable. I can be a pain when I want to be.”

Amusement fills Zitao’s eyes. He sucks on the end of his straw, stuck into the bottle of his iced tea. “So I’ve heard,” he replies after a moment, and, before Jongdae can wonder exactly _what_ he’s heard about him, Zitao turns his textbook around and points halfway down a page. “Let’s start here,” he says, smiling, and Jongdae tries not to melt at that look. (Again, he’s not very successful).

 

 

It’s a Saturday morning and Jongdae’s still partially hungover from the night before, but he arms himself with his textbook and notes from his last Mandarin class and takes residence on his bed, prepared to study for the afternoon until he meets with Zitao for their next tutoring session later in the day.

Yifan is in the room for once, having said something about basketball practice being cancelled, and he’s sitting at his desk working on an essay. Yixing stopped by an hour ago, and has taken over Yifan’s bed, flipping through pages on a book he has to read for his literature class, occasionally sliding over to Yifan to blow in his ear or do something stupid to annoy him. He giggles and flops back into bed and Jongdae always finds the two of them amusing since Yixing likes to push Yifan’s buttons and, unlike with everyone else, Yifan just lets him.

“How’s the studying going?” Yixing asks, coming over to sit on the floor by Jongdae’s bed since Yifan is ignoring him. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh, _now_ , you offer to help me. Where were you when I begged for a tutor a week ago?” Jongdae says, narrowing his eyes.

“I hear you’re doing fine with Zitao anyway,” Yixing says and there’s something in his eyes that is frightfully knowing. Jongdae hopes he hasn’t talked to Lu Han.

“Well, I’m understanding better than before, so I guess he’s working,” Jongdae grumbles out, not eager to divulge more information than necessary. Yixing doesn’t need to know that when Zitao speaks it’s hard not to pay complete attention. There’s just something in the brightness of his eyes and the way his lips move, although distracting, that keep Jongdae surprisingly focused. Yeah, he definitely doesn’t need to know about that.

“He’s cool, right?” Yixing says, grinning. “At first he looks kind of scary, like he could beat you up, but he’s so cute.”

“He _could_ beat you up,” Yifan adds in. He’s still typing furiously on his laptop, and only spares them a tiny smirk. “All those years of wushu training he has.”

Jongdae purses his lips in thought and looks back down at his notes. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t really know that much about Zitao at all. They haven’t really had a chance to talk much, in between all of the studying they do. He knows that Zitao has a strange affinity toward leopard print, and he seems to like cutesy panda stickers, if the way his iPhone case is covered in them is any indication, even if he insisted Sehun put them on when Jongdae asked about it with an amused grin. He’s here to study Korean and he’s originally from Qingdao, but that’s about it. Jongdae doesn’t know what classes he’s taking, not even which dorm he lives in.

Suddenly glum, he tosses his pencil off his bed and drops his face into his book.

“Giving up already?” Yixing laughs and all Jongdae manages back is a groan.

Thankfully he’s spared from having to say much more because there’s a knock at the bedroom door. Yifan gets up to answer it, so Jongdae continues to sulk, just turning his head in his arms to look over Yifan’s shoulder. It’s probably Baekhyun or someone, asking if they want to play a game, but the voice that greets Yifan cheerfully, while familiar, is definitely not anyone Jongdae was expecting.

Jongdae scrambles up into a sitting position as Yifan steps back to let Zitao into the room. Zitao glances around, waves at Yixing, and then his eyes find Jongdae’s and they widen in recognition.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were Yifan’s roommate,” Zitao says excitedly. Only it’s in Mandarin, and Jongdae catches about two words. His confusion must be obvious because Zitao laughs, rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he says, switching to (his totally not adorable) Korean, “I’m used to talking to them in Chinese.”

Jongdae waves a hand at him dismissively. He doesn’t feel like he can speak. He wasn’t expecting to see Zitao for another five hours, at least, and yet here he is, in his room of all places, and Jongdae is wearing a pair of tattered old sweatpants and a hoodie with ketchup stains down the front. He tries to cover it up by crossing his arms over his chest.

Maybe Yifan senses the change in Jongdae’s behavior, or maybe he’s just a fucking asshole, (Jongdae’s inclined to believe the latter), but he smiles at Zitao and says conversationally, “Jongdae was just saying how he thinks you’re a good teacher.”

Zitao grins, wide, and his back straightens a bit, cockiness in his eyes, like he knows he’s good. Jongdae can’t help but find that sort of reaction really hot. “Well, I think he’s a good student,” he replies, walking over to where Jongdae sits on his bed to pat him on the head. Jongdae wants to _die_. He considers strangling himself with his hoodie because Zitao is still staring down at him with soft eyes, and then he’s asking, “Yifan-ge and I were gonna go have lunch. Do you want to come along?”

Jongdae croaks out a, “No,” and tries to fight back the flush in his cheeks. “I-I just really need to study,” he says as a lame excuse, and hopes Zitao won’t push it.

He doesn’t; Jongdae’s not sure if that’s worse, but he tries not to think about it. Instead he watches as Zitao walks back over to Yifan, stopping by the mirror in the room to check his appearance. He smiles at Jongdae through the reflection. “Study hard, then. I’ll see you in a few hours, right?”

Jongdae nods weakly; in the mirror he can see Yixing looking at him curiously.

“Aren’t you coming, Yixing?” Yifan asks. He’s shut the top of his laptop and grabbing his ID card and dorm keys, looking at Yixing expectantly as Zitao walks over and rests his cheek against Yifan’s shoulder. Jongdae’s stomach lurches unpleasantly. Maybe he should go with them, if he’s so hungry.

Yixing tilts his head at Yifan, considering, and then, to Jongdae’s surprise says, “No, I think I’ll keep Jongdae company. We can catch lunch together later.”

Yifan shrugs and pushes Zitao towards the door with hands on his waist. Zitao laughs at him and waves over his shoulder at Jongdae and Yixing, and then they’re gone, and Jongdae finally feels like he can breathe again. He flops back against his bed with all his weight and sends his notebook flying to the floor but that’s the least of his worries. The bed dips a bit as Yixing climbs up onto it too and peers down at Jongdae’s face.

“You like him, don’t you?” Yixing says, matter-of-fact. He never beats around the bush. Jongdae hates Yixing. “Before you try to deny it, it’s written all over your face.” He pokes Jongdae in the nose.

Jongdae scrubs at his face with his hands and grumbles, “You’re wrong, he’s just my tutor.”

Yixing snorts. “Sure, but you want to suck his dick.”

Jongdae actually tries strangling himself with his hoodie now, yanking at the strings around his neck until Yixing’s loud laugh fills the room and stops him.

“You know, I could help,” Yixing says then. “If you wanted to get closer to him, I mean. Declining lunch invitations is not really the way to go.”

“I didn’t want to impose. I’d just be the third wheel. Zitao and I aren’t even really friends.”

“So _become_ friends, idiot. Ask him out for lunch, or for coffee after one of your tutoring sessions.” Yixing pats Jongdae’s knee and slowly smirks. “Maybe if you try, he’ll let you suck his dick.”

Jongdae curses under his breath and kicks Yixing off his bed.

 

 

Begrudgingly, Jongdae has to admit that Yixing’s got a point. If he wants to get to know Zitao better (which he does), then he actually has to _try_. And Jongdae’s always considered himself a pretty friendly guy; he has a lot of friends and he’s funny and definitely cooler than Yifan thinks he is, so it’s not like he can’t make friends. There’s just something about Zitao that gets him a little tongue-tied, and he refuses, point blank, to accept that it’s because he wants to get into Zitao’s pants.

(He won’t deny that it’d be an added bonus to all his tutoring sessions though.)

“Take him out for bubble tea afterward,” Lu Han suggests to Jongdae during class, when Jongdae mentions he can’t hang out after dinner because he’s meeting Zitao. “There’s that place a block from campus. He loves it.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Jongdae says, wrinkling his nose unhappily because he doesn’t _need_ help, really. He kicks Lu Han under the desk and smirks when Lu Han jumps and hits his knee on the underside, sending his textbook and pencil case to the floor and disrupting class.

Jongdae unsuccessfully hides a laugh behind a hand while Lu Han glares at him and picks everything up. He punches Jongdae in the arm, but it doesn’t even hurt. Lu Han’s never been very good at that.

“Just because you didn’t ask for help doesn’t mean I’m not going to give it,” he says, dropping his voice to more of a whisper. Some of their classmates keep glancing at him irritably. He smiles wickedly. “I think your crush is cute.”

“It’s not a crush,” Jongdae hisses, but it falls on deaf ears and not for the first time, Jongdae wonders why Lu Han is even his friend.

But he takes Lu Han's advice later that day, when his session with Zitao comes to an end. Zitao is tapping on his phone as Jongdae shoves his things into his bag and he doesn't know why he's fucking nervous, but his stomach feels uneasy.

Before Jongdae can get the words out of his mouth, though, Zitao is looking up from his phone and asking, "Want to get bubble tea with me? I was gonna get some before returning back to the dorm."

Jongdae blinks, processing slowly. When Zitao’s words finally click, he only manages out a strangled, “What?”

Zitao tilts his head slightly and his lower lip juts out in a tiny pout. He’s fucking pouting and Jongdae has to force himself to stare at his eyes and not his mouth. “Do you not want to?” he asks and Jongdae mentally smacks himself out of his funk.

“Yes, I do, that would be fun,” Jongdae says in a rush, hoping he doesn’t sound too enthusiastic. He’s a little bummed out that he didn’t manage to ask Zitao himself, but this works just as well, too. As they pack up their things and head out of the library doors, Jongdae even entertains the thought that since Zitao asked him, clearly that means he wants to spend more time with Jongdae, too, right?

It’s a quiet walk down to the bubble tea shop. Zitao spends most of the time staring at this phone and typing up quick messages, and Jongdae wonders curiously who he’s talking to. He realizes, then, with an upsetting jolt, that he doesn’t even have Zitao’s number. They’ve mostly been emailing each other to confirm times for studying sessions. Jongdae makes it a point to try to exchange numbers before they part ways tonight.

Jongdae's friend Junmyeon is working behind the counter when they arrive and he's surprised to find that Zitao knows him, too, greeting him excitedly with a big smile and wave.

“I didn’t know you knew Junmyeon,” Jongdae says after they’ve ordered their drinks and settled into a table by the window. Zitao got a small piece of cake and is slicing it with a fork. “He was my roommate my first year.”

Zitao looks at him curiously. “But not anymore,” he says and Jongdae nods as he takes a sip of his peach green tea, chews thoughtfully on a the few pearls that slide into his mouth.

“He’s kind of a slob,” Jongdae says, and there’s a bit of confusion in Zitao’s eyes. Jongdae forgets, sometimes, that Zitao’s Korean isn’t fluent, because they manage to communicate well enough through their studying sessions. Zitao doesn’t usually have much trouble then, but maybe it’s because he’s used to helping people learn Mandarin. “He’s messy,” Jongdae explains, more clearly, “he left piles of clothes in the corner of our room all the time.”

Amusement floods Zitao’s eyes as he understands, and he laughs softly. He takes another bite out of his cake, sucks on the prongs of his plastic fork. “He helps me very much in my finance class,” Zitao says, setting the fork onto the small plate and reaching for his lychee iced tea.

And that’s just the opening Jongdae has been looking for. He takes the opportunity then to ask Zitao what other classes he’s in, and Zitao lights up, answering Jongdae’s questions animatedly. And this, this is easy, this is something Jongdae can do, even if the way Zitao sucks on his straw is incredibly distracting and he sometimes forgets what he’s saying halfway through. Zitao doesn’t seem to mind though. He looks at Jongdae with clear interest in his eyes, like he actually finds Jongdae’s enthusiastic story about his Music History class fascinating. He’ll reach out and tap Jongdae’s wrist when he doesn’t understand something, and Jongdae will repeat it more clearly, as Zitao mouths the word back at him and then nods, satisfied, when he understands.

“I’m sorry if I’m talking too much,” Jongdae says, when he realizes he’s been speaking most of the time they’ve been at the shop. His drink has watered down considerably, a few slivers of ice left at the bottom with the remnants of the tapioca pearls. Jongdae swirls his straw around, sheepish.

“I don’t mind,” Zitao says, and he’s smiling. “It’s cute.”

Jongdae feels heat in his cheeks. If anyone is cute here, it’s Zitao, with his attentiveness and the way he laughs at all of Jongdae’s stupid stories, the corners of his eyes crinkling and lips stretched prettily into a smile. The way he would have to stop to think of a word he wanted to say in Korean but couldn’t recall, muttering the Mandarin equivalent under his breath until he remembered or Jongdae helped him out.

Time goes by incredibly fast, and before Jongdae realizes it, they’ve been at the shop for over an hour. When it starts to get a little busier, the evening crowds coming in for a quick drink before heading back to their dorms, Zitao suggests heading out and Jongdae agrees. They walk back together up to campus, Zitao still working through his drink while Jongdae tossed his out before they left. He kind of wishes he still had it though, the heat unpleasant against his skin. It doesn’t help that Zitao walks close to him, and his arm brushes against Jongdae’s more often than not.

But Jongdae tries not to think about that. Instead he pulls out his phone from his pocket and stares at it, passing it between his hands as he considers. They’re almost at Zitao’s dorm now (Jongdae was pleased to learn he lived just a short walk from his own and may or may not have mentally created new routes in his head to walk by there more often to get to his classes), and Jongdae should really ask right now before he chickens out.

Jongdae is not the chickening out type.

“Hey,” he says easily, gently bumps Zitao’s arm with his to get his attention. “You should give me your number. This was fun, you know? We can plan to meet up again some other time, and not just for studying.”

Zitao blinks, eyes widening a bit in surprise. Then he smiles, but Jongdae can tell right away that it’s a little different; it’s the kind of smile Lu Han makes when he’s got something up his sleeve. Jongdae doesn’t like that at all (nevermind the fact that it makes Zitao look strangely hot).

“Okay,” Zitao says, “but ask first in Mandarin.”

Jongdae groans, his shoulders slumping and he pouts at Zitao like he’s asked him to do something incredibly embarrassing. Well, it is sort of embarrassing, because Jongdae still feels completely inept at Mandarin, even more so whenever Zitao makes him speak to him in it out of the blue like this. Jongdae needs the preparation time, needs to look over all of the vocabulary and the tones before he can even think about stringing a sentence together and--

“You’re thinking too much,” Zitao says. He pokes Jongdae in the forehead playfully and his smile now is the one that makes Jongdae’s stomach turn to knots. “Don’t think,” he says, “just do.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Jongdae grumbles, but he understands that Zitao is just trying to help. They went over this today. He still remembers repeating the words aloud again and again, fixing the intonations until Zitao was satisfied. He heaves a deep breath and asks Zitao again in very slow, but precise Mandarin and the big, proud grin that Zitao gives him just about makes it worth it.

“Good,” he says happily, and he pats Jongdae on the head, the way he did the other day, and Jongdae wants to pout because Jongdae’s _older_ than Zitao. But then Zitao is plucking his phone out of his hands and tapping away at the screen. He calls his own phone and then hands Jongdae’s back, grinning in accomplishment.

“Thanks,” Jongdae murmurs, ignoring the soft brush of Zitao’s fingers against his when he handed his phone back. He slips it into the back pocket of his jeans just as they reach Zitao’s dorm and Jongdae tries to think of something to say that isn’t just _goodbye_.

Zitao pulls out his keys from the front pocket of his backpack and asks, “We’re still meeting tomorrow, yes?” When Jongdae nods, he smiles at him warmly and adds, “I’ll see you later then. Have a good night, hyung.”

“You too,” Jongdae manages to say before Zitao is waving at him and disappearing into his dorm. Jongdae sighs and heads off to his own, all the while thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s going to need more help with this. 

“You should come with us,” Lu Han says, yanking at Jongdae’s arm to get him out of bed. “Zitao will be there.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes at Lu Han, shoves him in the shoulder as he gets to his feet. “Are you trying to set me up with him?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Lu Han says easily, walking over to Jongdae’s closet and sifting through his clothes. “So you could at least go along with all of my efforts.”

“You haven’t even done anything,” Jongdae protests. He catches the shirt that Lu Han throws at him and sighs.

“I told you to take him out for bubble tea! He told me he had fun,” Lu Han says. He holds up a dark blue button-down and rips the shirt from Jongdae’s hand and thrusts over the other one. “So clearly that means you should take my advice and come with us. You can talk to him more.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Jongdae grumbles.

“Ha. Hahaha.” Lu Han looks at Jongdae in severe amusement and Jongdae groans, throws the shirt he was wearing at Lu Han’s face.

“You’re such a dick,” Jondgae says, slipping into the button-down, and Lu Han doesn’t even look upset. He just laughs harder and comes over to sling an arm around Jongdae’s shoulders.

“That’s the spirit,” he says pleasantly. “Now fix your hair, there’s no way Zitao will go out with you looking like that.”

It’s one of the usual Friday night parties at one of the campus apartments, and Lu Han drags him through the throng of people to a set of couches, where Jongdae finds Yifan sitting at the end with Yixing in his lap. Yixing looks a little tipsy already, head resting on Yifan’s shoulder. And next to Yifan, of course, is Zitao, and he grins up at Jongdae when he approaches, reaches out to grab his wrist and pull him down to the last seat.

“Sit here,” he says cheerfully and Jongdae dutifully ignores Lu Han’s smug smirk. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“Lu Han made me come,” Jongdae replies.

“He wanted to,” Lu Han adds, flopping down into an armchair across from them, “he’s just a coward.”

Zitao blinks, tilting his head curiously at Jongdae while Yixing snickers behind a hand. Jongdae shoots Lu Han a glare and quickly says, “Don’t listen to him, he’s full of nothing but lies.” He stands then, and Zitao’s fingers fall from around his wrist; Jongdae tries not to think about how the skin still burns from his touch. “I’m going to find something to drink.”

“I’ll come with,” Zitao says and Jongdae’s stomach flops unnecessarily as he nods. Zitao gets to his feet and grabs Jongdae’s shoulders in each of his hands, steering him through the crowd toward the kitchen. It’s only been about five minutes and Jongdae’s heart is hammering.

At least when he’s with Zitao like this, he doesn’t have to worry about Lu Han or Yixing saying something inappropriate, and that is enough to make Jongdae relax a bit. Enough even that Jongdae can ask, “Do you come to these kind of parties a lot?” Jongdae does, because they're infinitely more fun than studying, but he’s never really seen Zitao at one before. He knows he would remember, if he had.

“Sometimes,” Zitao responds. “Lu Han-ge told me to come today, so I did.”

Jongdae should’ve known. He snags a two plastic cups from the kitchen counter, passes one over to Zitao who takes it with a smile. Jongdae downs half of his in one go; he already knows he’s going to need it.

“I’m sorry about canceling our tutoring session today,” Zitao says suddenly and Jongdae shakes his head, hoping he doesn’t look disappointed about it. It’s not that he had been really, when Zitao texted him after his last class to ask if Jongdae wouldn’t mind meeting tomorrow instead because he had to work on a group project with his classmates today instead. His message was filled with a lot of cute, crying emoticons and there’s no way Jongdae could be upset by that.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jongdae says, with a wave of his hand. “I understand.”

“You could’ve spent the time studying on your own, anyway,” Zitao says. He takes a drink from his cup and then pauses, narrows his eyes at Jongdae over the rim. “Did you?”

Guilt creeps up the back of Jongdae’s neck and he rubs at his nose. “Maybe?” he says feebly and Zitao pouts at him, reaches out to light smack Jongdae in the arm. It’s such a cute, childish thing to do that it pulls a laugh out of Jongdae, and he rubs at his skin where Zitao had touched.

“I guess when we meet up tomorrow I’ll just have to quiz you on it,” Zitao says, smug, as Jongdae’s face falls.

“Don’t be mean,” he whines and Zitao laughs at him softly, pats Jongdae’s head like he’s gotten accustomed to doing. It never fails to make Jongdae’s stomach somersault inside him, a flush high on his cheeks.

Zitao pulls his hand back, but steps a little closer, and Jongdae, already pressed up against the counter, doesn’t have anywhere to go. “Don’t worry,” Zitao assures him, grinning as he leans forward a little conspiratorially. “It’ll be easy. And if you get them all right, maybe I’ll give you a reward.”

Jongdae wonders vaguely if that reward could have anything to do with Zitao’s red lips around his dick. As soon as the thought comes, he shakes it away, tearing his eyes from the curve of Zitao’s mouth and fixing his gaze to a spot above Zitao’s shoulder. He laughs, nervously, and inches away to the side. “I’ll hold you to that,” he manages to say, and his voice comes out terribly strangled. He downs the last of his drink and then grabs another full cup before turning away. “Let’s go find the others again,” he says and leads the way.

When Zitao grabs the back of Jongdae’s shirt so as to not get separated in the ever-growing throng of people, Jongdae just swallows thickly and tries not to think about how he doesn’t want him to let go.

"Hey," Jongdae says, stepping aside to let Zitao into his room. Yifan left earlier to spend the afternoon with Yixing, and Jongdae is regretting the decision of suggesting studying in his dorm together. It's too late to take it back now, though, so he just shuts the door and heads to his desk as Zitao settles himself onto Jongdae's bed, stretching long legs out in front of him.

Jongdae sits on the floor, flipping his textbook to the newest chapter. He has a test coming up that Wednesday, going over the past five chapters in the book, and it's the first big test he'll take since Zitao started tutoring him. Compared to before though, he feels much more well-prepared for this exam than the last one.

"Come sit up here," Zitao says, shifting back on Jongdae's bed until his back meets the wall. "It's more comfortable."

That just sounds like a terrible idea, but Zitao is looking at him almost hopefully and Jongdae's started to realize it's impossible for him to say no to Zitao. Just yesterday, Zitao had texted him to get ice cream and even though Jongdae was supposed to hang out with Lu Han to kick his ass at FIFA 13, he'd gone off to meet him anyway. ("You're so into him," Lu Han had snickered at him knowingly as he'd packed up his things to leave and Jongdae couldn't even refute it). So Jongdae finds himself climbing up onto his bed, too, tossing his book onto Zitao's lap and keeping a good foot of space between them.

"Okay, let's get started," Zitao says, clapping his hands together. Jongdae smiles at his enthusiasm, but flips the pages of his notebook to a clean sheet and listens dutifully as Zitao works through the new chapter. Jongdae had gone through this all in class earlier today, but with Zitao's help it starts to fully stick in his brain. He's still amazed, sometimes, that Zitao has enough patience to help him through this, especially considering he's not even one of the school tutors, that he's just doing this because Lu Han asked him if he could help Jongdae.

He's glad though, because Jondgae really doesn't know where he'd be right now without Zitao's help. They work through the entire chapter, and Zitao stops occasionally to quiz him on things, asks him to recite a few of the practice dialogues in the text until Jongdae's gotten the tones right. He always gets this extremely pleased look on his face when Jongdae does something right, and has taken to telling him, "good job," in Mandarin afterwards every time. He'll pat Jongdae's knee, and somehow, throughout the span of their studying, the space that Jondae had purposefully put between them vanishes. He's not sure if he moved closer or if it was Zitao, but somehow their shoulders are pressed together and their knees bump and Jongdae is hyper-aware of every tiny movement Zitao makes.

Jongdae is so into Zitao. Lu Han is right. Jongdae is never going to live this down.

It's just that Jongdae doesn't know how he couldn’t be into Zitao. His soft smiles, and intense eyes, the way he laughs, so big, and uninhibited, when Jongdae says something in Mandarin but his pronunciation is wrong so he ends up saying something completely stupid instead. He's impossibly cute, with his many texts, all filled with silly emoticons and exclamation marks, asking Jondgae to meet for lunch, to ask if he's been studying, even texting him in Mandarin just to see if Jongdae can reply. (He can, sometimes, and Zitao will send back a bunch of happy faces like he's really fucking proud. Jongdae's started to want to make Zitao proud).

It doesn't help either, that Zitao is tall and lean, with arms that Jongdae thinks could push him down into bed quite wonderfully, and thighs that look delightful in dark, black jeans. He hasn't stopped thinking about that _reward_ , and even though he's sure it won't be close to what Jongdae desperately hopes, he can't help but imagine Zitao pressing his lips to his, sliding a hand down the front of his pants.

And that's just a terrible train of thought to go down right now, so Jongdae shakes his head and pushes it away. Focuses on memorizing a new set of vocab and not on the way Zitao hand has somehow moved from his knee to his thigh.

"I'm so tired," Jongdae says, when they finish, stretching his arms over his head and flopping over onto his side on the bed. His shirt rides up at his stomach, and for a moment Zitao's eyes slide across the exposed skin before he looks back up at Jondae and smiles. Jongdae flushes. He closes Jongdae's book and sets it aside and, to Jongdae's horror, slinks down to lay beside him. Like this, he's even closer, looking up at Jongdae from under his blonde hair, and Jongdae trembles with the urge to reach out and brush his bangs away.

"You did really well today," Zitao says. "I'm sure you're going to ace your test."

"You have too much faith."

"You should be more confident.” Zitao playfully punches his shoulder. “I mean, you had _me_ as your tutor,” he adds haughtily and if they were dating, Jongdae would grab his face in his hands and lean over to kiss the smirk on his face.

But they’re not, and Jongdae grabs fistfuls of his bedsheets instead. He lets out a small, anxious laugh and says, "All right, you make a good point." A very good point, because without Zitao Jongdae would still be failing. As it is, Zitao's help has gotten his grade up considerably through homework assignments and class participation, which Jongdae used to do just as terrible on as his exams.

Zitao looks satisfied at Jongdae's admission though, smiling softly as his eyelids flutter, snuggling into Jongdae's bed more comfortably.

"Hey," Jongdae says, daringly reaching out to poke Zitao's stomach through his thin grey tank top. "Don't fall asleep."

Zitao just murmurs something incomprehensible, and it takes Jongdae a moment to realize he had spoken in Mandarin. He laughs and carefully pulls himself up out of bed, grabbing his notebook and textbook and returning them to his desk. He glances back at Zitao and asks, with more bravado than anything else, "Do you want to watch a movie?"

Zitao rolls over to look at Jongdae, nodding excitedly and Jongdae lets out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. They pick out some Chinese action film from Yifan's collection of movies at Zitao's request. "Practice," he says when Jongdae looks at the DVD cover dubiously, and Jongdae, because he can never say no, cracks open the case and pops the DVD into his laptop.

They sit side by side on Jongdae's bed again, and Jongdae can barely understand anything in the movie except for two or three select words, or when a character introduces himself. He could probably catch more, he thinks, if Zitao hadn't dropped his head onto Jongdae's shoulder, if his thigh wasn't pressed up just right against Jongdae's that he can practically feel the heat from his body sinking through Jongdae's skin.

About a third of the way through the movie, Jongdae realizes Zitao’s fallen asleep against him. Hair shields his eyes and his mouth is open just slightly, soft puffs of breath hot against Jongdae’s arm. This is the worst possible turn of events, Jongdae thinks, his heart rate quickening as he takes in the smooth planes of Zitao’s face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. It’s really endearing, and Jongdae once agains finds himself wanting to lean over and kiss him.

Of course he doesn’t. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he turns off the movie and closes his laptop. He carefully makes to pull himself out of bed, but Zitao whines quietly, curling over onto his side and wrapping an arm around Jongdae’s waist, and Jongdae was wrong before. _This_ is the worst possible turn of events. He rubs a hand over his eyes and after a few attempts at escaping Zitao’s embrace (Zitao is surprisingly strong, he realizes, clinging to Jongdae with more strength he ever expected, and he remembers vaguely what Yifan said about all his wushu training), Jongdae just reaches over Zitao to set his laptop down on the floor.

He sinks back into bed and Zitao presses his face into Jongdae’s shoulder, and Jongdae closes his eyes and keeps as still as he can, and it’s a very long time before he falls asleep, too.

“Then what?” Minseok asks. He doesn’t sound very interested in this at all, but Lu Han sitting beside him stares at Jongdae with big eyes of intrigue.

“Then nothing!” Jongdae says. “I woke up in the morning and he was gone.” He sighs, combs a hand through his hair. “I got a message an hour ago asking if I wanted to have lunch with him but I said no.”

Lu Han smacks Jongdae upside the head. “Why would you do that?”

“Haven’t you been listening? We slept in the same bed together and then he leaves without saying anything!” Jongdae exclaims, rubbing the back of his head. “Besides I don’t think I can see him right now without thinking about it and--”

“Don’t be so pathetic, Jongdae,” Lu Han chides him. He now looks incredibly annoyed, like Jongdae has just ruined his whole day with his story. “If he asked you for lunch that means he wants to see _you_.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I don’t know what you think, you’re proving to be thick-headed these days.” Lu Han knocks his knuckles on Jongdae’s forehead, and laughs when Jongdae swats his hand away with a glare.

“You’re terrible,” he grumbles. “This is all your fault. If you’d just tutored me yourself, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“If you had studied Mandarin yourself, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Minseok adds and Jongdae turns his glare onto him, too.

“Traitor,” Jongdae hisses, but Minseok is unperturbed, shrugging as he settles back in his seat and picks up the book he had been reading before Jongdae had come over to rant. Jongdae thinks he really needs to find better friends. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks weakly.

“You keep ignoring all of my advice,” Lu Han sniffs.

“Your latest piece of advice was to fuck him in the library, so excuse me for not listening to you,” Jongdae snaps and Minseok chokes around his drink, casting Lu Han a slightly appalled look.

“I was just trying to help,” Lu Han says, pouting. He doesn’t look very upset at all though.

“I think you’ve tried enough,” Minseok says, patting Lu Han’s shoulder. “Besides, Jongdae managed to get Zitao in bed with him on his own, so I don’t think he needs your help.” He laughs as Jongdae groans and puts his face into his hands.

“Worst friends,” he grumbles into his palms. He jumps then, when a hand rests on his shoulder, and he turns to find Zitao standing behind him. He looks rather tired, dressed more for comfort in baggy black shorts and a grey hoodie. Jongdae still thinks he looks great. “Um,” Jongdae says, his throat tight. “Hi?”

“Hi,” Zitao says, and he slides into the seat next to Jongdae, dropping his backpack onto the floor by his feet. He sits too close. Jongdae tries not to instinctively move away. “Did you not get my message?”

Jongdae did. He’d asked if Jongdae wanted to meet a little earlier for their tutoring session to go over everything that will be on Jongdae’s test tomorrow. He suggested coming over to Jongdae’s room again to study, but after how that’d gone the day before, Jongdae had ignored Zitao’s message altogether.

Now he feels a little guilty, especially since Zitao is staring at him with round eyes, clearly upset. “Sorry,” Jongdae says. He’s aware that Lu Han and Minseok are staring at him, too, and hopes his lie isn’t visible on his face. “I haven’t checked my phone in awhile so I haven’t seen it.”

“It’s all right,” Zitao says. If he catches onto Jongdae’s lie, or the fact that Jongdae is barely looking at him, he graciously doesn’t comment. “Last night was fun,” he says cheerfully. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.” He rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassedly, and Jongdae is rather amazed, because Zitao is always so sure and confident of himself.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jongdae says, waving his hand in the air dismissively. He can’t bring himself to be upset about it anymore, not when Zitao is staring at him like that. “We should,” he starts slowly, “We should do it again sometime. And if you fall asleep again, I’ll draw on your face.” Jongdae smirks.

Zitao laughs but nods, looking pleased. “Maybe after your test tomorrow,” he suggests and Jongdae mulls over his schedule. Mandarin is his last class of the day.

“That would be okay,” he says and Zitao beams.

“What’re you doing tonight?” Lu Han asks suddenly, leaning over the table to look at Zitao. “We were going down to the pizza place for dinner, you should come, too, Zitao.”

Zitao turns to Jongdae. “You’re going, too?” he says, and Jongdae catches Lu Han’s amused look that Zitao felt the need to ask him, first. Jongdae admits he’s a little pleased, too, heart pounding in his ears as Zitao looks at him hopefully.

“Yeah, I am,” he says. “We can go together, after we study.”

“Sounds fun,” Zitao agrees.

Jongdae just nods, purposefully ignoring Lu Han’s smug grin and how Zitao’s knee slides against his leg underneath the table.

By the time Jongdae and Zitao finish studying and make it to the nearby pizza place, Lu Han and Minseok are already there, Minseok waving at them from their table in the back of the small restaurant. Yixing and Yifan are there, too, and Yifan is sliding a piece of pizza onto Yixing’s plate for him as Yixing grins and exclaims, “Glad to see you both made it!”

“How’d the studying go?” Minseok asks. “Are you going to pass your test?”

“I hope so,” Jongdae says, sliding into the seat across from Yifan. Zitao takes the empty seat on his right, and he scoots over closer than Jongdae would like.

“You’ll be fine,” Zitao says firmly, pats Jongdae on the shoulder. “You’re better than you think.” He gives Jongdae a big, reassuring smile that only makes Jongdae more anxious, but not about his test.

“You mean he wasn’t a hopeless case?” Yifan questions, raising a brow at Zitao. “I thought for sure there’d be no saving him.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” Jongdae says sourly. “Some roommate.” He stuffs his mouth with a giant bite of pizza.

Zitao’s hand that’s still resting on his shoulder squeezes a bit, like he’s trying to comfort Jongdae. And it does, but it also makes his heart race. He wants to shrug his hand off, but he knows it’d look too obvious, so instead he focuses on eating instead of the warm weight.

“He’s not hopeless,” Zitao says, and Jongdae chances a look at him. Zitao meets his eyes, and his expression turns devious. “Sure, he had a lot of difficulties and he can barely remember the vocabulary, and the only thing he knew how to say with confidence is how many people are in his family--”

Zitao bursts into laughter as Jongdae shoves his hand from his shoulder and punches him half-heartedly in the arm. “Asshole,” he hisses, which only makes Zitao laugh harder, loud and slightly high-pitched, and he hides his mouth behind a hand. His eyes curve into little half-moons and Jongdae just finds him so fucking adorable. “After all my hard work, that’s all you have to say?”

"You two are so cute," Yixing says, and Jongdae feels heat flare in his face. He can't even muster up a glare, because Yixing just looks incredibly amused, eyes bright almost innocently, except Jongdae knows Yixing and Yixing is just about as innocent as Lu Han, not innocent at all. When he catches Jongdae's stare, his lips tug into a smirk, and Jongdae aims a kick at him under the table. He hits Yifan, instead, but doesn't feel any remorse.

Jongdae rubs at his cheeks and glances at Zitao, and his eyes widen because Zitao is blushing, too. He's staring fixedly down at his plate and reaching for a glass of water with slightly shaking hands.

"Are you okay?" Jongdae asks tentatively, and Zitao jumps, turning toward Jongdae before quickly looking away. He won't met Jongdae's eyes. Jongdae stars at him in wonder.

"Yeah," Zitao says after a moment. The blush on his face makes Jongdae’s heart beat so fast in his chest; he wants to see Zitao like this, more, wants to be the one to make him react this way. “I’m fine.” He finally meets Jongdae’s eyes, and it’s a little hesitant, a little lost, and Jongdae feels the same.

He smiles at Zitao before turning back to the rest of the group, and frowns instantly because the others are staring at them like they’re animals at the zoo. “What?” he snaps in Mandarin, and it breaks the tension; Lu Han snorting into his drink while Yifan rolls his eyes and reaches for another piece of pizza. Yixing continues to smile enigmatically, and Minseok just turns to Zitao to ask him about a class they share.

“Remember when I said you were so into Zitao?” Lu Han says, later, after they’ve all stuffed themselves with pizza and are heading back up to campus together. Lu Han throws an arm around his shoulders and leans in close.

Jongdae casts a worried look over his shoulder to check if Zitao heard them, but he’s busy talking to Yixing, clinging to his arm. “Yes...” Jongdae says, glancing back at Lu Han with apprehension.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he’s into you just as much,” Lu Han says. He smirks wide, all mischievous, and Jongdae shoves him.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Jongdae hisses.

“It’s true, though,” Lu Han laughs. “I can tell.”

“You also thought Sehun had a crush on you and whined about it for the longest time about how to let him down gently, when it turned out he was dating Jinri.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes as Lu Han snaps, “I thought we agreed never to talk about that??”

“The _point_ is, you are the last person I’d listen to when it comes to shit like this,” Jongdae says.

“Fine,” Lu Han grumbles, “don’t believe me. But you should go for it, though. I know he won’t reject you.”

Before Jongdae can reply, Zitao has snuck up behind them, wrapping his arms over both Lu Han’s and Jongdae’s shoulders and leaning into them. “Who won’t reject Jongdae?” he asks, looking so inquisitively at Jongdae that Jongdae’s insides seem to knot up. His hand around Jongdae’s arm squeezes a little tighter, almost possessively, and Jongdae quickly berates himself for even thinking something so ridiculous. There’s no way.

Lu Han actually opens his mouth as though he’s fully intent on telling Zitao the truth, so Jongdae quickly jumps in to say, “No one! Lu Han’s just being annoying. As usual.”

“Is that it?” Zitao asks, tilting his head to the side and the intensity in his eyes is what Jongdae imagines in weak moments, when he thinks how Zitao would look at him if Jongdae did just tug him close and kiss him.

It’s unnerving, to have him staring like that now, over something so simple as this, so Jongdae laughs and snakes his way out of Zitao’s grip. “Yes, of course. Don’t worry about it, Zitao.” He brushes it off easily, and for a moment Zitao looks like he wants to press further.

Instead he just smiles, drops his arm from around Lu Han and shoves his hands into his pockets. “All right,” he says and smiles at Jongdae, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes as usual. Jongdae doesn’t like it.

They arrive at Jongdae’s dorm first, and Yixing follows Yifan inside, while Lu Han and Minseok bid their goodbyes and head off to their own dorm. Zitao hangs back, catching Jongdae’s wrist before he can head inside.

“Hey,” he says. “We’re still watching a movie tomorrow, right?”

Jongdae nods quickly. “Yeah, sure,” he says, and he grins when Zitao visibly brightens, a real smile on his face unlike earlier. “But no Chinese film this time; after my test, that’s the last thing I want.”

“Okay, you can choose something this time,” Zitao says easily.

Jongdae’s already got a few ideas. He rocks on the balls of his feet and says, before he can change his mind, “Thanks, you know, for all of your help tutoring. I really don’t know where I’d be otherwise.” He scratches the back of his neck, thinks about maybe looking over his notes before bed.

“It’s okay,” Zitao says, stepping up to him, so close that Jongdae has to tilt his head back to look at him properly. “I know you’re going to do great. You can thank me for real when you get your scores back.”

Jongdae laughs. “Fair enough,” he agrees, and he still feels a little unsure about everything, but Zitao’s unstaggering confidence is enough to fuel Jongdae’s. He’s starting to believe that maybe he can do this, too.

As if Zitao can read his thoughts, he holds Jongdae’s wrist tighter and says softly in Mandarin, “You’ll do fine.” Jongdae understands him clearly. “Good luck, hyung.”

“Thanks,” he replies, and his perfect pronunciation pulls a big grin from Zitao, and Jongdae hopes that he passes his test with flying colors, not just for himself.

Even more than that, he wants to see Zitao look at him proudly like this.

Jongdae gets about ten texts from Zitao the next day, all a variation of _good luck!!_ and _you can do it!_ and Jongdae finds his resolve building with each one. He’s surprised when he sits down for the exam and realizes he _understands_ , that he’s not staring off into space, that he doesn’t give up at the first question he can’t figure out. He’s one of the last ones to finish, but that doesn’t bother him. He feels good about his answers, good about the whole test, and he’s pretty sure he’s just nailed it.

He meets Zitao afterward at Zitao’s dorm and Zitao happily leads him inside, instantly asking, “How did it go?”

“Good! More than good!” Jongdae grins at Zitao, tossing his book bag onto Zitao’s bed and flopping down upon it. “I’m pretty sure that is the best test I’ve taken for that class.”

“I knew you could do it,” Zitao says, sitting down beside him and bumping Jongdae’s shoulder with his.

The smile he gives Jongdae has his heart beating faster than normal and even though his exam is done and over with, Jongdae still feels a little like he needs to be saved.

It takes a week for Jongdae to get his results. He’d almost thought, in that time, that he wouldn’t see Zitao as much anymore, that maybe he’d have finally gotten enough of a grip on Mandarin that he wouldn’t need a tutor. But Zitao still messages him a meet for lunch or calls randomly to make Jongdae speak to him in Mandarin just like he did before.

Jongdae is glad, because it means, maybe, he’s not just some hopeless tutee who needed help to pass Mandarin, but a friend. That Zitao likes him enough to keep wanting to hang out with him. (Jongdae would love to hope for _more than friends_ , but he’ll take what he can get for now).

When he does get his results back, he’s astounded, to say the least. His professor smiles at him and says, “Whatever you’ve been doing, keep it up.”

Jongdae just nods, dumbfounded, taking his test in hand and staring in awe at the clear A in the corner. He was sure he’d done well, but he didn’t expect this. He kind of wants to jump up and down in excitement, wants to call Zitao up right now and tell him the good news, but he keeps it all in. Instead he takes a photo of his test paper and sends it to Zitao after class on his way to meet Baekhyun at the library to work on a project for their history class.

His phone beeps with Zitao’s reply not even five minutes later. _Good job!!_ it says, in Mandarin, like always, and the rest of the message is full of thumbs ups and happy faces. Jongdae laughs, starts to message back, when his phone beeps again with another message.

_I want to see you!!_ Jongdae almost drops his phone as he reads it. _We should celebrate!_

_I’m free in an hour_ , Jongdae sends back, and even if his meeting with Baekhyun takes longer than that, Jongdae will leave, because this is definitely more important.

_I’ll come by your dorm_ , Zitao says, and Jongdae tucks his phone away, willing the next hour to go by quickly.

There’s a knock on Jongdae’s door about a half hour after he gets back and he jumps up to answer it.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zitao says looking terribly apologetic, but Jongdae doesn’t care, just pulls him into the room.

He’s much too excited to show Zitao his score, but he grabs the paper from atop his desk and practically shoves it under Zitao’s nose. “I passed!” he says proudly.

Zitao takes the test from him and looks it over, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “I told you,” he says softly, lowering the page. “I knew you could do it.”

Jongdae lets out an incredulous laugh. “I can’t believe it!” he says. He feels like he’s riding a high. “I mean I couldn’t have done it without--”

The last of his words are cut short by Zitao suddenly grabbing his elbow and tugging him close, and Jongdae only has a second of awareness as Zitao leans down and closes what little space is left between them in a fierce kiss. Jongdae’s pretty sure the world has frozen around him because he can barely hear anything other than the sound of his heart rattling against his ribcage. He must be dreaming. Because there’s no way this is happening, right?

But then Zitao gently moves his lips, the tip of his tongue sliding over Jongdae’s mouth, and Jongdae gasps as he seems to hit the ground hard. The high he felt from his aced exam is nothing compared to the reality that is Zitao clenching his hand into the front of Jongdae’s shirt and pulling him close, closer than close like he’s trying to mold their bodies into one, or the delightful feel of smooth lips against Jongdae’s own. He licks at the seam of Jongdae’s lips and Jongdae opens his mouth eagerly, stepping up into Zitao’s space until Zitao’s back hits the nearest wall with a loud thud.

“What is--” Jongdae gasps, hands finding Zitao’s hips for something to hold onto. Zitao’s skin feels warm under his fingertips even through the thin material of his shirt. “Zitao--”

“We’re celebrating,” Zitaos laughs into Jongdae’s mouth. “Think of it as that reward you’ve wanted.” Something about that just doesn't sound right, and Jongdae pulls back to stare at him. Zitao smirks. “Lu Han-ge might have mentioned something.” He laughs again, when Jongdae can do nothing but gape, and rubs thumb over Jongdae’s cheekbone.

Jongdae feels his cheeks burn in embarrassment, and Zitao’s fingers against his skin doesn’t help at all. He kind of wants to bury his face in Zitao’s shoulder but that would probably only make him feel even more humiliated. “I’m going to kill Lu Han,” he mutters under his breath.

“It’s okay,” Zitao says easily, and he drops his hands from Jongdae’s face to slid around his waist and slip into the back pockets of his jeans. He drags him in close again and Jongdae’s amazed his heart hasn’t burst straight out of his chest. “I like you, too.”

He says it in Mandarin, but Jongdae understands this better than anything else Zitao’s taught him over the past few weeks. Jongdae fists his hand into the collar of Zitao’s shirt and crushes their mouths together. He can feel Zitao smile against his lips, and it makes Jongdae just kiss him harder. The groan that Zitao lets out is like music to Jongdae’s ears, he’s wanted this for so long and he can’t believe it’s actually happening, that Zitao _likes_ him how Jongdae hoped he would.

He pulls back to catch his breath when Zitao rocks his hips up against his, and Jongdae realizes he’s half-hard already. He gasps against Zitao’s chin as Zitao rubs his hands up Jongdae’s back, slipping up under his t-shirt, and his touch leaves white-hot trails that Jongdae is sure he’ll be able to feel hours later.

“So,” Jongdae says, when his mind has stopped spinning enough that he thinks he can speak, “about that reward...what exactly did you have in mind?”

Zitao laughs is big and uninhibited, the kind that forever makes Jongdae’s heart race and eager to kiss him. And he does, because he _can_ , a slow press of lips that has his whole body nearly trembling in pleasure. When he pulls away this time, Zitao is smirking. It’s the only warning he gets before Zitao grabs his hips and in one swift move, turns them around, slamming Jongdae up against the wall in his place.

“Oh,” Zitao says easily, eyes bright while Jongdae stares at him, helplessly turned on, “I think I have a few ideas."


End file.
